Day 12 - Roaring Fires and Romance Novels
by love.devil.movies.baby
Summary: Written for the Richonne Just Desserts 25 Days of Richonne Challenge on Tumblr. A cold night, a roaring fire, one single bed, and years of pent up frustration on a cold Christmas Eve. Ho Ho Ho...


One bed.

Michonne sat in the armchair of their room, staring at it.

What were the odds of this?

It was almost laughable, really. A plot pulled straight from the pages of the romance novels she'd been enamored with in the early days of her teenage years. Christmas Eve, a road trip with an old friend, an unexpected snow storm, only one room left at the hotel, a cozy fire, piles of blankets.

And one single bed.

She would have managed just fine had it been anyone else. She had many friends, both male and female. With any of them, she would have pulled on her comfy flannel pajamas and flounced straight over to fall asleep.

This was not anyone else. This was Rick Grimes.

If she was being completely honest with herself, sleeping was not a thing she pictured doing in bed with Rick.

"You ok?" he emerged through the door, clutching a brown paper bag, the cold still clinging to his shoulders.

She managed a grin, forcing down her indecent thoughts. "They still had food." She needed to stay in the realm of polite small talk, or her facade would crumble.

Rick smiled at her, an odd blush rising to his cheeks. "It's more dessert than anything," he confessed, lifting a small plastic bowl of berries out of the bag. "But I found some cheese." He shrugged out of his leather jacket.

"Fancy," she teased, keeping her eyes on the berries and not the way Rick looked in his light blue denim shirt. She'd once thought she hated denim shirts paired with denim jeans, the Canadian Tuxedo, as another friend had once called it. She didn't hate it anymore. Might have had something to do with the way that Rick looked in it.

"It's got nothing on those," he nodded at her over-sized pajamas, smirking at the sight.

Michonne stood up, walking towards him. "You're only laughing because you don't know how soft they are," she countered, removing the food from his hands.

"You might be right about that," his eyes danced down her body. Michonne felt a rush of arousal. She hastily moved back.

"Go change," she instructed, resorting to her teasing tone. "I'll be here eating." With a flourish, she stuck her tongue out, plopping down on the plush rug in front of the fire.

Rick complied, grinning at her as he disappeared into the bathroom. Michonne nervously nibbled at the fruit while she waited. She nearly choked when he emerged again in his pajamas pants. Without a shirt.

"You said get comfortable," he shrugged, dropping down next to her. His skin was more tan than it had any right to be in the winter, his muscles flexing as he reached for the food. There was a slight smirk playing on his lips.

Her whole body flushed. She swallowed thickly, scrambling to recover. "Rick Grimes," she admonished, "Are you trying to seduce me?" she batted her eyelashes in faux flirtation.

"Depends," he fired right back, grasping a berry from the bowl. "Can you be seduced?"

She meant to laugh but her body betrayed her. Instead she found herself staring at the man beside her, her heart thumping in her chest.

"Is that a yes?" he baited her again, popping the fruit into his mouth. He licked his lips salaciously.

Michonne leapt forward at once, upending the bowl between them, and captured those lips for herself. He tasted sweet, a flavor enhanced by the fruit, and one she would never grow tired of.

Rick was ready for her. In seconds, he had her on her back, her legs around his waist, the flannel of her comfy Christmas PJs riding up.

"You're right," he ran his hands beneath the fabric, drawing a shaky moan from her as he cupped her. "They are soft." He bent his head to kiss her again. Michonne squirmed anxiously beneath him.

"Rick," she called his name, the hard, unrelenting heat pressing against her pelvis threatening to drive her insane.

He wasted no time in ridding her of her festive nightwear. Michonne aided him in kicking his sweatpants down his legs. In a moment, they were together, groaning loudly, the sensation causing her eyes to roll back.

She'd read many a romance novel when she was young, but nothing could have prepared her for this. Rick Grimes was sublime. And sex in front of the fireplace? She had no complaints.

When they finished at last, he dropped a kiss on her sweat-soaked skin. He was still between her legs, his arms wrapped around her waist.

"Want to go to bed?" he asked, still breathless.

"Yes," Michonne reached back, tangling her hands in his hair. "But not to sleep."

With a chuckle, he picked her up, tossing her bodily on the mattress. He followed after her, a predatory gleam in his eyes that she quite liked.

"Merry Christmas," he whispered as his watch beeped in the holiday. Michonne answered with a moan when she felt him inside her again.

Merry Christmas indeed.


End file.
